


Bring Me Down

by Boldly_Gone



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Explosions, Hurt Clint, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Protective Hulk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boldly_Gone/pseuds/Boldly_Gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An explosion at Bruce's lab causes the Hulk to go on a rampage when he thinks Clint is dead. Clint is the only one who can bring Bruce back down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me Down

“You've been staring down that microscope for hours.”

Clint was perched on top of one of the counters in Bruce's lab, his legs dangling over the edge. His gaze was locked upon his boyfriend who sat at his desk across the other side of the lab. An almost inaudible mumble came from Bruce, who make no effort to look up from his tests. Clint sighed loudly, making sure Bruce could hear his displeasure at being bored and completely left to his own devices on their day off together.

No response from Bruce.

He decided to noisily kick his heels against the cupboard he was sat on, the mud off his black boots imprinting on the wood.

Still no response.

Clint pouted and whistled a single note.

“Look,” Bruce finally said, brushing stray curls away from his face, “you can leave if you want to.” He stood up from his desk and walked over to the sink, grabbing an empty glass. “I'm not making you stay.”

Clint hopped down from the counter and moved to stand opposite Bruce. “I'm here because I want to be! I hardly see you any more because you hide yourself away in here!” Clint gestured exaggeratively with his arms to demonstrate his frustration.

“I've got work to finish.” Bruce pushed his glasses up to his freckled nose and walked to gaze out of the window whilst sipping his glass of water, his back to Clint.

“I figured. We both get the same day off and you spend it working on some unnecessary project.” Clint forced a laugh. “It's nice to know where your priorities lie, Bruce. I'll see you later.” He grabbed his cell phone and jacket from the counter and strode towards the door, straightening his black shirt.

“Clint...wait-”

Suddenly, the glass shattered inwards from the windows behind them, causing them both to shield their eyes from the flying shards. The floor shook as pipes fell through the ceiling as it cracked from the tremors, bringing bricks and tiles down with them.

After a couple of seconds of chaos, Bruce managed to stand with shaking knees, brushing debris from himself and rubbing his eyes. His glasses must've come off in the commotion. The sounds of sirens and screams were drowned out by the sound of his pulse beating through his eardrums.

“C-Clint?” He shouted through his coughing, noticing that his archer was down. He attempted to push pipes and bricks from his path but his hands shook, unwillingly clenching into fists.

The Other Guy wanted out.

 _Please,_ Bruce inwardly begged, _not now._ He needed to check on Clint. He forced himself up and managed to push the debris aside, Clint's face coming into his view. The archer was lying on his back, his left leg trapped underneath a large piece of debris. Blood dripped across his forehead from a gash on his temple. Bruce could feel his chest tighten, his pulse quicken and his muscles clench. Raw emotional bubbled to the surface as Bruce groaned, his shirt ripping as the Hulk took control. The floor tiles cracked under his shift in weight, a mighty roar emitting from his lungs. The Hulk was free.

His attention turned to the debris still surrounding him. With all his strength, Hulk grabbed what he could and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. He raised the bricks crushing Clint's leg and carefully picked the unconscious archer in his large hand, placing him down again where there was no wreckage. He poked and prodded Clint in the hopes that he would show a sign of life but it was to no avail. The Hulk's attempts to prove that the archer was still alive became more desperate, his roars becoming louder in the process. Eventually, he ceased his attempts and stamped towards the smashed windows, punching his way out and giving one final, almighty roar before jumping out and landing fiercely on the ground below, causing the people on the street to scream. He smashed anything that stood in his way, his mind convinced that Clint was dead.

 

X.................X

 

Clint's eyes opened slowly as his consciousness returned to him. Damn, his leg hurt. He managed to push himself up onto his elbows, his gasps coming in sharp intervals. He glanced around, blinking quickly in the hopes that his vision would return to him. Bruce's lab was completely ruined.

“Bruce?” Clint coughed, holding onto a large piece of rubble and pushing himself off of the ground and managing to stand, feeling blood trickle down his calf and his temple. All his pain seemed irrelevant as he suddenly heard a loud roar from the Hulk, followed quickly by the yells of people obviously intimidated by whatever the big guy was doing.

Clint hobbled around and looked for his cell phone. It had only fallen a few feet away from him and was merely covered in dust. Grabbing it, he pressed '3' on his speed-dial. “Stark? Its Barton. Code Green.”

Clint could almost visualise Tony rolling his eyes. “Bruce is sick again, huh? I'll get the tissues-”

“Not _that_ Code Green. Its Hu- _ah!_ ” Clint took a sharp intake of breath as a rippling pain shot up and down his leg, stabbing through his hip.

Stark's tone changed when he heard Clint yell. “Barton? Talk to me!”

“I'm okay,” he lied through gritted teeth, “it's the Hulk. He's rampaging, by the sounds of it. I'm at Bruce's lab downtown and I don't think the big guy has strayed very far.”

Clint could hear commotion from down the phone as if the device was being passed around.

“Clint?! You wouldn't be in mortal peril again, would you?” It was Nat. Clint could imagine the smile on her face.

He stifled a laugh. “Nah, just my leg. But Tasha, you've gotta get to Bruce. Hurry!!”

The Widow was never one for goodbyes, even those down a cell phone, so the line cut abruptly and Clint was left standing - barely standing- in Bruce's ruined lab. Another roar came from the Hulk outside the building. He _had_ to do something, injury or no injury. Superpowers or no superpowers. He gave a tug at the material of his injured trouser leg and it ripped, allowing him to wrap it around the fairly deep gash across his shin and down his calf. He was sure no part of his leg was broken. His ankle had a possible sprain but Bruce was in trouble right now and Clint was always one for putting things into perspective.

The archer hopped towards the windows, or rather where the windows _had_ been before the explosion, and peered out of the massive gap in the wall, looking down four storeys and onto the street below. There were no people anywhere to be seen as all had seemingly fled as soon as Hulk had landed in a fit of rage. A taxi suddenly came hurtling down the street in the air like it had been flung with great strength, the Hulk running after it and smashing his fists against the ground.

Clint had seen the Hulk in a rage countless times since the Avengers had formed and this time...well, Hulk didn't _look_ all that angry. 'Distraught' was the word that came to Clint's mind first. The archer ran over the situation in his mind, coming to the conclusion that Bruce must've come back to consciousness before him, seen that he was injured and...maybe the Hulk had tried to wake him up.

And now Hulk thought Clint was dead.

_Shit._

He had to get down there. He hopped towards the door, pushing any debris out of his way and prayed that the staircases were still manageable. It was fairly dark as electricity in the building had obviously been damaged by the explosion. He raced down the steps with as much haste as his injured leg would carry him, trying his best to leap over any damaged steps.

Finally, he reached the ground floor and stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the sudden light. Herds of people hurried past him in a chorus of screams and yells. The Hulk was a way down the street from where Clint was stood, pounding his fists into the ground. Clint tried his best to run but ended up on his backside with a grunt as someone barged past him. Usually, he'd offer some kind of sarcastic comment to whoever it was to knocked him over but the Hulk needed him. He began to push himself up when an armoured hand was offered to him.

“Took you guys long enough,” Clint said, taking Tony's hand.

“Hey, it's lunchtime,” Tony replied with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

Another roar came from the Hulk as Clint wobbled on his feet. Steve and Natasha came running from behind them. Suddenly, gunfire was hear and they all shifted their gaze to where the Hulk was. Steve and Nat ran, whilst Tony had picked Clint up bridal-style and took off flying down the street with him. Police cars and vans had already began to surround the Hulk with officers pointing varying firearms in his direction, some obviously being ordered to fire. Clearly, this had only angered the Hulk as he now stood with his head thrown back and roared loudly into the sky. Stark landed between the officers and the Hulk, setting Clint down gently.

As soon as Clint's feet touched the ground, he set off hobbling towards the angered Hulk.

“Hey,” the archer said as he got closer and closer to the beast. He held his arms out just in front of him, hoping the Hulk wouldn't freak when he saw him. “Easy, big guy.”

The Hulk looked down at the injured man who was slowly approaching him and he crouched, inspecting the archer as if to reassure himself that Clint was, indeed, alive. Hulk crouched all the way down until he was on his hands and knees in front of Clint, leaning in closer until his face was inches away from Clint's body. The archer folded his arms.

“You've got some explaining to do, buddy,” and he glanced down the wrecked street.

Before Clint could protest, Hulk grabbed him around the waist and was hugging him tightly against his chest. Clint coughed as most of the air in his lungs was being squeezed out but found the strength to hug back. Without saying another word, Hulk stood up and, still with Clint in his arms, began to walk away in the direction of the Avengers Tower, leaving Tony, Steve and Nat to deal with the policemen.

 

X.................X

 

After Bruce had resurfaced and found some appropriately-sized clothes for himself, he went back into Clint's room, finding the archer sitting on his bed and attempting to bandage his wounded leg.

“Here,” Bruce said as he sat down next to Clint, “let me help.”

He took the bandage from Clint's dusty hands and properly wrapped it around the cuts and bruising. Clint removed his shirt, revealing more cuts.

“I'll clean those too,” Bruce added with a plain tone and stood, intending to get a bowl of water and a cloth. He was only a couple of steps away from the bed when Clint spoke.

“What happened?” Clint asked.

Bruce didn't turn around. “I thought you were dead. You weren't moving and there was blood and...the _other_ guy saw and freaked, I suppose.”

Clint scoffed. “It's gonna take more than bit of rubble to finish me.”

“I'm serious, Clint,” Bruce turned on his heels to face the archer, whose smile quickly faded from his face when he saw the tears in Bruce's eyes. “I thought I'd lost you. For good, this time. You come home from missions bleeding and bruised and I sit by your bedside until you're okay and then you're back on missions again and its a viscous circle. And I sit at home when you're away, wondering whether you're going to come back alive.”

Bruce's chest heaved as he attempted to control his emotions. Clint sat wide-eyed on the bed, staring at him, completely unsure of what to say. He pushed himself off the sheet and hobbled over to Bruce.

He tilted the doctor's chin up and pressed their lips together. Clint's hands rested upon Bruce's shoulders, rubbing his hands across the soft fabric of his shirt. They broke apart, the archer wiping a stray tear away from Bruce's freckled cheek.

“I'm sorry.”

Bruce smiled. “I guess I can count on you to bring me down though, right?”

Clint winked. “Always, Freckles. Always.”


End file.
